The Other Life
by KatZen
Summary: What if International Rescue was just a figment of Jeff's imagination? A look at what life could have been like for the Tracys. Stand alone multi-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ****The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. No money or personal profit is made from this. Any original characters do belong to me, however.**

**AN: a challenge from a friend. I was a bit reluctant to post this, but he encouraged me to do it, so here goes. Set in an alternate universe, alternate reality, different timeline, whatever expression floats your boat. Bottom line, the boys aren't quite as we know them.**

The other life

Every year they vowed that they wouldn't be the last ones to arrive at the monthly family gathering. Every year they broke their promise.

The car – a slow, yellow hatchback, one Alan, as a professional race car driver, loathed to be seen in – pulled up abruptly behind the other cars that were parked haphazardly on the driveway.

"Come on, Tin!" Alan cried out excitedly as he ran up the steps to his childhood home. He was like a five year old trapped in a twenty-one year old body. "I can't wait to tell them!"

Laughing, Tin-Tin followed Alan up the steps, swinging her black hair over her shoulder. "Alan, are you sure…"

"Yes!" Alan interrupted. "You've met them. You know my family aren't ogres – most of the time. Trust me; they'll be as excited as I am."

The door opened, revealing the patriarch of the family.

Jeff Tracy.

"Well, it's about time you showed up, boy. I was beginning to worry."

Alan smiled sheepishly. "How's Mom?"

"You can ask her yourself," a new voice interjected. Lucy pulled her youngest son into a hug. "And you can also tell me when you and Tin-Tin have set the date for the wedding."

Alan's jaw dropped while Tin-Tin stood there in shock. How had Lucy known? They hadn't told anyone their news yet.

"Well, don't just stand there! Come inside!" Lucy allowed the pair to step off the porch and into the hallway. "The others are in the living room. I'll get you both something to drink. You must be tired after that long journey."

Turning into the first room on the left, Alan slipped his hand into Tin-Tin's and led her into the living room. They were immediately sandwiched in a group hug and greeted.

John, having returned from his space rotations three weeks ago, looked down at Tin-Tin's left hand and echoed Lucy's statement. He also added, "Dibs on best man, Al. Us blonds have to stick together."

Alan chuckled. "Speaking of blond, what have you done to your hair? It looks like a bird has made a nest on top of your head."

John grimaced. Ever since he had returned, he had noticed slight changes to his general appearance. He had paled due to lack of sunlight and as Scott, Virgil, Gordon and now Alan had repeatedly pointed out to him, his hair resembled a peroxide nuclear explosion, coupled with frizz and all. He had been reassured that all of this was temporary and his body would revert back to normal soon, but John was still unhappy.

"Guys," Alan began, confirming John's statement, "You've all met Tin-Tin as my girlfriend. Well, now meet Tin-Tin Kyrano, my fiancée."

Cheers and cries of congratulations were accepted graciously. Tin-Tin felt a wave of relief was over her. For the entire two hour long journey, she had been wondering if she would be welcomed into the family. Now, looking around the room, she knew her answer.

"So, when did you guys get in?" Alan asked.

"Well," twenty-four year old Virgil said, "Gords was first here, obviously, Maxie and I came in second, John, Scott, Jennifer and their daughter arrived at the same time and then you and Tin-Tin checked in."

Maxie was Virgil's new wife. After a rocky start to their relationship, Virgil and Maxie had been happily married for half a year. Scott and Jennifer, on the other hand, had empathically stated that just because they had a child together, and were going to have another one by the end of the year; it didn't mean they wanted to get married. They were perfectly content with their de-facto status. Marriage was an expense they could do without.

The conversation moved on, with the brothers informing each other with the latest updates in their life. Virgil had recently gained a promotion from the engineering company he was working with. John was well on track with his career and he was scheduled for a return trip into space in the upcoming years. At twenty-two and a half, Gordon was growing up in his own right. His age wasn't a barrier when it came to playing practical jokes on his co-workers at World Aquanaut Security Patrol or his brothers, but he knew when to be serious and focus on the task at hand. Currently, he was on indefinite sick leave, recovering from a hydrofoil crash. Alan had established himself as a diligent, professional and dedicated race car driver. All four were satisfied with their current occupations.

Scott was a different story. For reasons he had never clearly explained to his family, Scott had left the Air Force with an honourable discharge and a smattering of decorations for bravery. Taking any job he could find that suited his interests; he became a pilot for a private charter company. While he enjoyed the job itself, his colleagues were making his work life hell. At twenty-six, Scott was the youngest employee there that worked as a pilot and regardless of his expertise at flying planes; his co-workers viewed him as inexperienced and constantly questioned his judgment. The only silver lining, Scott had felt, was that this job guaranteed he would always return to his home city at the end of every day, allowing him to spend more time with his family.

"You know," Jeff butted in after listening to Scott vent about his job, "You could always work for me. There are positions vacant in my business."

Scott nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. But that'll mean relocating and Jen and I won't be able to do that right now. Not for the next year at least."

Jeff chuckled. "Good to see you have your priorities straight, son. The offer's always there."

"Speaking of priorities, I should probably go check on the little sprog. She'll be awake by now." Scott levered himself off the couch and traipsed upstairs to check on his daughter.

"So, who does she look like?" Tin-Tin asked. She had seen photos of her soon-to-be niece, but she strongly believed that what a photo showed and what a person looked like were two separate things.

"Who do you think she looks like?" Scott had returned, carrying his slightly dozy child on his hip.

Tin-Tin studied the infant intently. "Her mother. She definitely takes after Jennifer here. But she had your eyes, Scott."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, stifling a yawn behind his hand, "We get that a lot, don't we, Nat?"

Natalie, the one and a half year old, nodded against his shoulder.

"I've gotta say," Gordon began as he took his favourite niece out off her unresisting father's hands. "I thought you would have flown here, not driven. That's why Natty's so out of it."

"He would have flown," a voice from the doorway said. "But I can't. High risk pregnancy and all that. Also, Nat's a lousy flier. She screams and chucks up. Can you imagine Scott letting his 'other woman' be defiled in such a manner?"

All the heads in the room swivelled to the noise source, only to see Maxie, a tall, willow like figure standing next to Jennifer, a shorter, heavily pregnant brunette.

"Didn't want to take the risk with placenta previa," Scott agreed, pulling his long time girlfriend into his lap so she could sit and rest. He had purposely ignored her jibe at the plane being his second love, even though it was. "How're you feeling?"

Jennifer glared at Scott. "Like a pygmy hippo. I swear to God, Scott, if you ever do this to me again…." The rest of the threat was left deliberately unsaid.

"Pygmy hippos are adorable," Scott murmured into her ear, wrapping his arms around her swollen stomach. "I just can't get enough of them."

A loud crash, followed by a shrill scream came from the kitchen.

"Luc," Jeff called out, placing his mug of coffee on a table. "You alright?"

Lucy didn't reply.

"Luc?" Jeff was becoming more anxious and worried filled the room like a thick blanket.

"I'll go check," Jennifer tried to move, but Scott held her back.

"No, you won't," he argued. "The doctor told you to rest, so guess what you're gonna do?"

"You? Am I doing you?" she responded in that way of hers when she was unhappy with circumstances. Scott just rolled his eyes as he made his way with Jeff to the kitchen.

By this time, Gordon had struggled to his feet with the aid of a walker and was shuffling unsteadily towards the kitchen as well. Alan and Virgil surrounded him, just in case he overbalanced and made his healing injuries worse. John, too, had made his way into the kitchen.

"Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, sweetie," Lucy mumbled, trying to ease the worry from her husband and sons. "I just twisted my ankle, I think. I'm sorry, boys, I won't be able to carry on cooking our family lunch."

"Don't worry about it, honey," Jeff reassured her, sweeping her up into his arms so she didn't do more harm to her ankle by walking on it.

"Yeah," Virgil chimed in. "We'll carry on with lunch, won't we, guys?"

"You just leave that to us, Mom," John added. "We'll get it all done. Five star meal."

Lucy stared dubiously at the gathering. Her sons were talented and singular individuals, and teamed together, they were a force to be reckoned with. However, there was one common link that tied them together. Try as they might, none of them possessed any culinary prowess. Lucy shuddered to think of what would happen to her kitchen if she couldn't keep an eye on her boys. Her worst fears were confirmed when her second youngest shuffled slowly out of the kitchen, holding a packet of lamb in his hands.

"How do you want your meat; rare or well done?"

Lucy facepalmed, shaking her head wearily.

"No meat for me, Gords," Jennifer supplied. "Baby Liu-Tracy wouldn't appreciate that."

"Not a fan of meat?" Lucy queried lightly, grimacing through the pain as an ice pack was applied to her ankle.

"Baby hates it," Jennifer explained, rubbing her tummy affectionately. "The last eight months have been so hard for Scott, because he insists on giving up the things I won't have, so I'm not in this alone. To be perfectly honest, I wish he'd make an exception on the coffee aspect of things."

And with that cleared up, Jeff, Lucy, Maxie, Tin-Tin and Jennifer relaxed, letting the boys handle the stress of lunch.

Back in the kitchen, the boys weren't having much luck. So far, all they had managed to do was move plates, pots and pans around the various counters and argue over who was the better cook. All in all, it wasn't that productive.

"Give me the frying pan!" Alan snarled, tugging it impatiently. "You haven't cooked in over six months, John! I would so do a better job!"

"No, you wouldn't," John grunted back, pulling with all his might. "You burn water!"

"How is that even possible?" Alan queried incredulously.

"I don't know! You're the one that does it!"

Meanwhile, Gordon had plonked down on an empty chair and pulled a recipe book towards him. "Alright company, listen up!"

Four heads swivelled towards him. Two were highly amused, one was surprised and the other one fought to stifle a grin.

_Gordon taking charge? _Virgil cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at Scott.

_Wow, talk about role reversals. _Scott blinked back. _It's a good thing for him. Shows he still has the ability to control some things in his life. He needs that right now. _

"I need two people peeling, chopping and dicing the vegetables," Gordon began, pointedly looking at Scott and Virgil.

"Sir, yes sir!" Scott mock saluted, grabbed two graters and a bag of vegetables.

"John, you'll be marinating the meat. Alan can sauté everything. Knowing us, we should be done in three days."

"And what are you doing to help out, dear brother of ours?" John asked as he rinsed out the meat.

Gordon pretended to be shocked. "I'm here to help out with my uber-organizational skills. Within five minutes, I've ordered everyone into a job. Man, am I good!"

Virgil nodded in agreement. "How long was the drive, Scott?"

"Virg, you know I live in Scobey. In Montana. It was very long. Took about two and a half days because we stopped in to visit Jen's parents. Stopping on the way back as well. It's going to be a long week. You?"

"About ten hours. Would have taken less time, but Maxie insisted on breaks every two hours."

There was a slight pause.

"Okay Virg, what's wrong?"

Virgil looked at Scott. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You didn't ask me about the journey here for fun. There's an underlying problem. Spit it out."

Virgil sighed. "You remember when we were kids? Dad used to talk to us about a dream he had. Well, I've been wondering; what our lives would have been like if he could have funded that pet project of his."

"I hadn't thought of that in a decade," Scott admitted. "Well, life wouldn't be like this. You may never have married, let alone meet Maxie, Alan would never have gotten engaged and Jen and I wouldn't have had Natalie or baby number two. I think it's better off this way. Can't miss what you've never had, right?"

"I guess," Virgil conceded. There was another pause. "Scott?"

"Yes?"

"What's it like, being a dad?"

Scott stopped peeling the carrot in his hand and stared at Virgil. "Is there something you and Maxie haven't told us?"

"No! No. There's nothing. We haven't even been trying for a baby. I was just curious."

"You really wanna know?"

Virgil nodded.

"It's a pain in the ass."

Virgil scoffed. This wasn't what he expected to hear.

"There's the two am feeds, the dirty diapers, the wailing at ungodly hours of the night, the lack of sleep, the tight budgeting to survive from week – to – week until the paycheck arrives and the spit up.

"But then I look at Nat, and it doesn't matter. I look at her and I see parts of Jen and little bits of me. I see her as the product of our love. And it just feels right. All of it is worth it in the end. It may be a pain in the ass, but it's great as well."

Virgil nodded and went back to peeling carrots. "Did I tell you I have to visit my in-laws again?"

Scott winced in sympathy. It was common knowledge to the Tracy family that Virgil was disliked by his wife's parents. "Ouch. Better you than me."

"Thanks for the support, Scott. Besides, the dislike they have for me wouldn't even register on the animosity between you and Jen's parents."

Scott considered this. "I really don't know why they -"

"Loathe?" John interrupted, as he had been eavesdropping.

"Detest?" suggested Alan over the roar of the gas stove.

"Abhor?" Gordon supplied, an amused smile creeping across his face.

"Someone's been reading their dictionary," Virgil snarked to Gordon.

Gordon, instead of taking offence, grinned. "Nice to know my hard work paid off."

"I was actually thinking of using strongly disliked," Scott muttered. "Don't know what I've done to deserve that, though."

"Well, Jen chose to move in with you, meaning she left Canada and her parents behind. You got Jen pregnant twice without marrying her and being raised in China, her parents view this as a violation of their beliefs, even if Jennifer and you are happy the way you are. You passed on an X chromosome instead of a Y one. You -"

"Alright, John, I get the picture."

"We could go on all day," Gordon teased, much to his eldest brother's displeasure.

"Please don't. I'd rather not hear about my inadequacies."

The process of creating lunch carried on; with each brother talking about an event they were dreading. For Gordon, it was his upcoming fitness test that would determine if he would return to active duty at the beginning of next year. John had finished the manuscript for his first book, and he was going to meet up with a publishing company to see if it had any potential. For all he knew, he could be the latest J.K Rowling, weaning a whole generation back into reading.

Within two hours of taking over the kitchen, the boys set steaming plates of food on the table and called the household to lunch.

"New record, boys," Jeff smiled. "Fastest meal cooked from scratch and nothing has spontaneously combusted."

Gordon turned as bright as his red hair. "I only set fire to one thing and I'm labelled for life!"

"Well," Maxie smoothed things over, "it smells delicious."

"Absolutely fab," Tin-Tin agreed.

"What are you waiting for?" Alan asked as he sat next to his fiancée. "Tuck in."

The meal was, as Maxie had said, delicious. As soon as they had cleared their plates of their main meal and dessert, the used crockery was stacked in the dishwasher. Lucy had suggested that they all relax while watching a movie and everyone eagerly agreed. In her mind, it was the perfect way to end a light-hearted, family filled day.

However, as soon as Jeff turned the television on, he knew something was wrong. Every single channel was showing a newscast. Wild weather fluctuations had been battling its way through the northern parts of America. All the states bordering Canada had been red-flagged, and the range of disasters had caused an immense amount of casualties and fatalities.

The movie had been forgotten. Eyes were glued to the screen as the devastation played out.

"Thank God you were here when this happened," Lucy told Scott. Even though her boy was an adult and a father himself, she still wanted to keep him, and his family, safe.

"Yeah," Scott murmured.

"I told you buying that house was a big mistake!" Lucy berated, fuelled by motherly concern. "You could have been killed if you hadn't come here."

"Mom, that was seven years ago. Please, let it go. I was nineteen when I bought the house. And sometimes a mistake is a good thing. If I hadn't, Jen, Nat and I would be spending half our income on rent."

"True," Lucy conceded. However, like any mother on the planet, she would have felt better if she was able to stay closer to her sons. "But you're still paying off your mortgage."

Jeff swallowed. There should have been something he could have done. There should have been something he could have done. Deep down, he knew there was. It was a small seed that had been ingrained at the back of his mind for as long as he could remember.

International Rescue.

As a child, he yearned to do something to help others. As an adult he yearned to do something to help others, whether it was in Earth's atmosphere or not. International Rescue would have been his way of giving something back to the world.

In Jeff's mind's eye, International Rescue would be a family run venture. Five sons; five crafts. Each ship would be tailored to each of his sons' speciality. For Scott, he imagined a scout craft. It would have to be swift and nimble while also having a temperament that would match Scott's passion for flying. Virgil was more mechanical minded. He would have been more suited to the transport craft, which would house the rescue equipment in transit between rescues. Alan and John had a common love of the stars. They would interchange between the spaceship and the low orbiting satellite respectively. It stood to reason that his water baby, Gordon, would have assumed full responsibility for a small, two man submarine, which would have been utilised in underwater rescues.

But life didn't work out that way. While he was a moderately successful icon in the corporate world, Jeff had never raised the kind of cash he'd need to build International Rescue, let alone fund it out of his own pocket. He was adamant that no outside source would fund his pet project.

Even if he did have the money, Jeff may not have had his ideal team. There was no guarantee that his sons would join him in this venture. Gordon was, for the foreseeable future, wasn't able to walk unaided. Jeff was sure that wouldn't stop Gordon from living life the way he wanted to, but he also had to consider practicalities. He needed his team to be in perfect physical condition. Gordon was not quite there yet.

Would his other sons have given up their life for him? John probably would have, but the other three were loose cannons. Virgil had a wife and a stable life in Denver. He may not want to uproot on a harebrained scheme his father cooked up. Alan loved the allure cars had. There was no way Alan would give up car racing for space. Scott had a family to consider, as well as a job and a half paid mortgage.

And what about Lucy? Jeff knew she thought it was a sweet and touching gesture, but realistically, she knew that what her husband had proposed was impractical.

No, the set up of International Rescue wasn't as easy as he had first anticipated.

Sensing his guilt, Lucy slipped her hand into his, squeezed it slightly and sat on his lap. "It's okay, Jeff. If you could, you would make a difference."

_If _he could.

But he couldn't. Not yet, anyway.

Not without International Rescue.

Not without money.

Not without the full support of his wife, sons and their family.

But until he had all of that, he would just have to watch each disaster unfold as they occurred, and wish International Rescue was more than simply a figment of his imagination. He would just have to wait until International Rescue became more than just a dream for the future.


	2. Nothin' Like a Bonfire

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: so, even though I categorised this as complete, a PM made me realise there was more to the AU character and their past experiences. The sender had asked quite a few questions, but each one had a story behind it. So, while stuck in hospital, this idea woke up from a peaceful slumber. Over a course of two days and a drug induced haze, the idea evolved and developed into this, allowing me to answer two questions at once. This is alternate-reality-Gordon's, and Scott's, to some extent, extremely long tale – how Gordon earned his pyromaniac label and how Scott bought his house at nineteen. **

'Nothin' like a Bonfire'

Sixteen year old Gordon Tracy was officially bored. There was nothing in his house that was designed to entertain one person on a study break. With a huff, he crossed his legs underneath his body, staring morosely out of the window. Alan had gone and gotten himself grounded, _again_, over something so stupid; Gordon didn't even try to remember what it was. That ruled Alan out for a movie marathon or a game off on the multipurpose entertainment system.

_And Virgil won't come out of his room, thanks to finals. Man, senior year must suck. I wish Scott and John would hurry up and come home. _

Stretching the kinks out of his stiff body, Gordon moved out of his room, down the stairs and into the family room, perching his body on the windowsill.

_They should be here soon. John promised Mom that he would make it home before six and it's already five fifty. _

Sure enough, within a few minutes, John's black hatchback crawled into the driveway. As soon as he heard John's key turn in the lock, he hollered, "Mom, John's home in time! You owe him a cookie!"

Racing to the door, Gordon wrenched it open and practically launched himself onto his blonde brother. John stood his ground, even though he was surprised by Gordon's enthusiastic welcome home. After a few minutes, John began squirming in Gordon's grip.

"Gords," John gasped out painfully. "Can't breathe."

Guilty at causing his brother pain, Gordon released his hold on John. "Sorry."

"It's okay," John said, massaging his ribcage. "Choking bad, breathing good."

By now, Alan and Lucy had made their way to the door. Even Virgil had managed to tear himself away from his books for a brief hello, before heading back to his room. Beckoning John in, Lucy closed the door and followed him to the family room. Wordlessly, she handed John a triple chocolate chip cookie. "You got lucky with the bet this time. I'll win next time."

John shook his head, refuting the fact. "You will never win the John-can't-make-it-back-home-before-six bet because I love your cookies too much to lose. Where's Dad?"

"Still at work, but he should be home in half an hour," Alan supplied, scooting into his older brother's side. "You taking Harvard by storm yet?"

"Of course I am! The Tracy charm gets you far." With a smile, John turned to his mum. "Scott checked in yet? He was supposed to be here before me, if memory serves correct."

"No, he called a while ago, said he and Jennifer were running a bit late. They'll be here by seven thirty."

"What about the reservations?" Gordon asked, looking at his mother, forgetting that this was supposed to be a surprise. Lucy looked at her son, freezing his insides with a laser beam glare.

"What's the reservation thing about?" John asked, interest piqued.  
"You will find out in due course, John. Patience, young one." Lucy smiled, swinging her chestnut curls over her shoulder as she sat opposite John in an armchair. "Gordon, Alan, head back upstairs and hit the books."

"Aw, Mom –"

"But, Mom –"

"But nothing," Lucy interrupted the protests. "John is here until the beginning of September. You'll have three months to catch up and hang out with him. Your finals, however, are in two weeks. So, hit the books."

Gordon and Alan appealed to John, eyes wide and imploring.

"Oh no. No. Absolutely not. Don't look at me like that. Mom's right. Hit the books or you'll never get into Harvard."

Knowing when they were defeated, Alan and Gordon traipsed upstairs, muttering about the unfairness of it all.

"And don't forget the dress requirements for dinner!" Lucy called to their retreating backs.

"Dress requirements? Mom," John began in a flap, "I didn't bring anything formal with me."

Lucy cast her eyes up and down. John was dressed in a pale blue polo shirt with some black jeans. As usual, there wasn't a wrinkle or crease in his clothes and his general appearance was impeccable. "You're dressed fine, sweetie."

Relieved, John sank back into the floral cushions of the sofa.

"So," smiled Lucy, "tell me all about your first year at Harvard."

* * *

An hour and fifteen minutes passed by, and the conversation was interrupted by another key turning in the lock, with a muffled voice yelling, "Dad? Mom? You guys home?"

Lucy bounded off the sofa, eager to see her eldest and meet the girl who had seemingly captured his heart for almost a year.

"Mom," John warned, levering himself off the sofa so he could greet his brother. "Last time I met Jennifer, she was incredibly shy. Please don't make her uncomfortable."

Lucy acknowledged John's advice with a dismissive wave of her hand as she went to the front door. She embraced her nineteen year old the same way she had hugged John – as though she was trying to squeeze the last bits of toothpaste out of a nearly empty tube. It was only Jeff's chuckle that made her slightly loosen her hold on him.

Although he was more than happy to be back with his family, Scott couldn't help but wince as his mother's arm clamped down on his bandaged arm.

"What have you done to yourself, sweetie?" Lucy asked, stepping back and observing her son. She frowned slightly at the slogan on Scott's t-shirt, knowing that wearing a shirt that read _I'm not drunk; I'm just chemically off-balance, _wouldn't quite cut it for hers and Jeff's dinner idea. Neither would the five o' clock shadow.

"It's just a little burn. I was a bit careless in the kitchen. Don't worry about it," Scott added as his mother had started to undress the wrap, intent on examining the damage. "I got Jen to fix it up. Med student – she knows more about this stuff than I do. Speaking of, let's just get the introductions out of the way. Jennifer, Mom and Dad, Mom and Dad, Jennifer. That wasn't too hard, was it?"

Remembering John's words, Lucy led Jennifer into the family room while Jeff instructed his son to go upstairs, shave and change into a more conservative shirt, before following his wife into the family room.

"You have a very nice place here, Mr and Mrs. Tracy," Jennifer said after an initial awkward silence. "Scott told me you had moved just before he left for Yale."

"Yes, we decided to downsize the house as the boys move out," Lucy nodded. "And, please, call us Lucy and Jeff. Mr and Mrs. Tracy is far too formal for our liking."

"So, Jennifer, tell me, did Scott _really_ burn his hand while cooking?" Jeff asked in wry amusement.

"Yes. I was there. I saw it happen."

"Oh." Jeff sounded mildly surprised. "I didn't know Scott could cook." From the look on his wife's face, it was news to Lucy as well.

Another awkward silence blanketed the room. Jeff took it as an opportunity to assemble his sons downstairs.

"You're very shy, aren't you, Jennifer," Lucy probed gently.

"Nervous, too," Jennifer admitted.

"Well, don't be. My son has always had good judgement, so I'll trust him when he says you're one in a million. His judgement is good enough for us."

The four boys traipsed into the family room. Jeff appraised them all, nodding in approval. They were all casually formal, with Virgil and Scott sporting similar checked shirts while Alan and Gordon copied John's polo shirt idea.

"Scott, John, you'll need to move your cars out of the driveway, unless you don't mind us using your cars."

"Sure, you can use them. We'll just go set it up," Scott shrugged, pulling Jennifer out with him.

"Let me lay out a few ground rules," Jeff said as soon as the trio left. "It's Scott and John's first night back, so be nice to them. Also, we have a visitor, so you will be on your best behaviour. Is that understood?" Jeff pointedly looked at Alan.

Alan mumbled sullenly under his breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you."

Alan glared, a petulant frown gracing his face. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, go on, find a car otherwise you won't get any dinner."

This time, instead of making a homemade meal for her sons when they returned home from university, Jeff and Lucy had decided that it would be easier, and more enjoyable, if they all went out to a local restaurant for dinner. Virgil, Gordon and Alan all knew about the idea, meaning it was a surprise for John, Scott and Jennifer. Watching his sons whirlwind their way out of the door, Jeff raised his eyebrows in wry amusement at his wife. "Let's see which brother they pester."

* * *

Outside on the driveway, Scott squirmed in the driver's seat, trying to get comfortable.

"Your parents are really nice, you know," Jen began. "They're like a barrel of laughs compared to mine."

From the middle backseat, John asked, "You've met them?"

Scott nodded, not saying anything.

"How'd it go?"

"Well," Scott stalled initially. "It could have gone better."

"Huh?"

"My parents were more… reserved than yours when I introduced Scott to them," Jen explained.

"Yeah. To them, I'm just a jerk that stealing Cinderella, amongst other things," Scott added, a dark undercurrent in his tone.

"It can't have been that bad," John reasoned, glancing at the house door. His younger brothers were finally making their way out of the house.

"It was."

"Well, at least you two have that two and a half month holiday to look forward to. No pesky siblings, no parents, just the two of you. The two of you, all alone in Paris." With that, John slid out of Scott's classic Impala, heading towards his hatchback.

"He's right, y'know," Scott said after a moment of peaceful silence. "We do have that holiday to look forward to. Not to mention the house I just bought."

"You bought a what?"

Alan slid into the backseat, echoing what Scott had just said.

"A house. It's a place you live in. Made out of four walls and a roof, y'know?" Gordon quipped, sliding into the other backseat.

"I know that!" Alan scowled, every bit the moody teenager. "I'm not an idiot!"

"Could have fooled me," Gordon murmured, staring glumly out of the window. It was true, in his opinion. Alan hadn't been the easiest person to live with over the past couple of months, due to violent mood swings and general teenaged tetchiness. Gordon was positive he wasn't nearly as bad as Alan when he was fourteen.

In retaliation, Alan stomped his foot, accidentally kicking the back of Scott's seat. "I'm not an idiot!" he growled. "Take it back."

"Enough," Scott broke in, diffusing the argument that threatened to break out with the practiced air of an older brother. "Gordon, knock it off, or I'll leave you behind. Alan, lose the attitude or you won't be coming either. Understand?"

"Yes, Scott," came two sullen replies.

"Good. Now, where are we going, how do I get there and," Scott broke off, glancing at his dashboard. "Where is the nearest gas station?"

* * *

Under the instructions of Alan and Gordon, Scott pulled up on the main street ten minutes later. Out of the rear windscreen, Gordon spotted Jeff shaking his head and looking at his watch.

"Dad's pretty mad, Scott," Gordon warned. "You know how he feels about punctuality, and you're seven minutes behind his schedule."

"Dad'll get over it. It was fill up with gas or walk. I simply chose the less time consuming option."

There was a moment's pause.

"Well, go on, get out," Scott prompted. "And be careful for oncoming traffic," he added as Gordon climbed out of the roadside door. With a quick glance out of his mirror, Scott climbed out of the car and trotted over to the sidewalk. Holding his girlfriend's hand, Scott led Jennifer over to the restaurant entrance.

"What do you think? Indian, Thai or Italian?"

Jennifer quirked one, fine eyebrow. "No idea. Why don't we go in and see?"

Finally making their way into the restaurant, they took in the scene before them. The Tracys, bar Gordon, had seated themselves around a kitchen workstation. Gordon had pulled a white apron over his clothes and set a chef's hat on his head at a jaunty angle.

"So, what's going on?" John ventured, perplexed at the scene in front of him. He wasn't the only one; Scott and Jennifer's expressions of confusion and amusement mirrored his own.

"It's a new craze that has hit Garden City. It's kinda like an interactive Teppanyaki restaurant, but it's a bit different too," Virgil offered, by way of an explanation. "Um, each table has a cook – most of the time, they flit between three or four parties – and a helper from the party that's eating. In our case, it's Gordon."

"Well, this can only lead to disaster and hilarity. Whose idea was this anyway?"

Virgil pointed at his youngest blond brother. "Alan's. He thought it would be fun."

"Gordon?" Scott asked rhetorically. "We're using Gordon? The same Gordon who thinks meat comes in two forms – really rare or very well done?"

"The very same Gordon," Virgil confirmed quietly. "We're doomed."

"So, whadaya guys want?" Gordon interjected, brandishing his knife aimlessly.

"Food," Alan immediately replied, his stomach growling in agreement.

"_Cooked _food," John amended.

"Not raw, not charred, cooked," Scott added.

"Bit rich coming from you, Sir-Burn-A-Lot," Gordon quipped, much to Scott's outrage. "But seriously, what am I making? Tacos, paella or sushi?"

All heads swivelled towards the patriarch and matriarch of the family.

"I'd like an Italian and French meal tonight," Jeff supplied, to the approval of his family.

"Italian and French, I can manage that," Gordon boasted, confirming this with the chef that had materialised next to him by asking, "I can, can't I?"

After a quick consultation with the chef that was guiding Gordon in his cooking attempt, Gordon got stuck into preparing the meat, as per his instructions.

"So, Scott, tell us, where is this house you bought?"

Jeff choked on the mouthful of drink he had in his mouth, while Lucy dropped the fork she was fiddling with. Of all the things they were expecting to hear, this wasn't on their list.

"You bought a what?" Jeff asked, unknowingly echoing Alan.

"I bought a house. In Scobey. It's a small city in Montana, close to the Canadian-American border. Buying it was purely accidental. I'm thinking of keeping it as a long term investment." He paused, letting it sink in. "That was going to be something I mentioned when I got back from Jen's parents' place, Gordon."

Virgil and John looked disapprovingly at each other. How was buying a house 'purely accidental'?

"The only reason we drove through Scobey was because _someone,_" he pointedly glanced at the ceiling, away from Jennifer, "told me to turn left instead of right. Had we not gone through Scobey, we would not have seen the open house, or attended the auction, or actually make a purchase. Believe me, when I woke up this morning, I did not intend to buy a house. And yes," Scott added, forestalling any interruptions from his parents, "I had enough money for a deposit, and yes, the bank has given me a loan for the rest of the house, and yes, I am renting it out and using that income to pay off the loan. I've covered my bases. It's a win-win _win._"

"What I would like to know, is how you had enough left over money to buy a house after splurging on a two and a half month trip around the world," Alan piped up.

"I work hard for my money, Alan. I have two part time jobs, I invest in shares, I utilise high interest rate term deposits and I play the lottery every week."

Lucy tilted her head to one side as she observed the Asian girl sitting between Scott and Virgil. "Is this a joint investment between the two of you?"

"No," Jennifer denied. "The house was bought by Scott; the deed is in his name. It's Scott's investment. I just saw the open house."

By now, Gordon had finished preparing the food for one dish and he was ready to place it into a pan. With the help of the chef, Gordon began to fry up the first dish of the day. There were a few moments of idle chatter before Gordon peered into the pan. "I think the meat for the Bolognese is done. It looks brown."

"It is done," the chef agreed, once again materialising next to Gordon. "We just add the final touch to the meat before we add the base." Saying that, he turned down the stove drizzled some wine into the pot. "The heat from the pot should be enough to let the wine simmer. If it becomes too cold, turn up the heat slightly. I'll check in on you later."

"Yes Sir," Gordon mock saluted, stirring the pot gently.

"So, Jen, remind me," Virgil began, hoping to relax her because she was emitting waves of severe unease after Scott's house revelation. "When and where are you and Scott going on this world trip of yours? I've been a bit out of it, thanks to finals."

"Um, well, we leave New York in three days, go to London for two weeks. Then we head to Paris, Cairo and India before moving onto China. From China, we go to Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore, before hitting Sydney. After Sydney, we go to Rio, Hawaii and then Calgary before I head home and Scott comes back here."

"Sounds like quite a trip," Alan enthused. "You'll have a ball of a time. Gordon, the pot's stopped simmering. You'll need to turn up the heat."

Alan was right, and Gordon followed his suggestion. Without thinking about what he was doing, Gordon turned the heat setting on the stove up as high as it would go, before turning back to the salad he was making.

It was inevitable, really, with the combination of red wine and heat, but the contents of the pot promptly caught alight, much to the surprise of the chef's apprentice, Gordon. The flames shot up out of the pan with such ferocity, Gordon immediately dropped his knife and tried to put it out. Due to the commotion, the chef had rushed back to Gordon's workstation before skilfully eradicating the flames.

Poor Gordon could only apologise profusely as he watched the burnt mince flop into the bin. "I didn't mean it," Gordon gabbled, gripping the workbench with his hands. "I really didn't mean to do that. Why did it spontaneously combust? Why?"

"We know, Gordy," Lucy reassured, wrapping her second youngest up in a hug. "Brother ribbing aside, we know you didn't mean to do that. It was the alcohol that set the meat alight. It's okay, Gordon. At least you tried. I think we'll be having take out tonight, though."

Gordon let out a small chuckle as his mother led him away from the disaster zone and out of the restaurant. "Just your average Tracy family meal, right? I mean, there's nothin' like a bonfire before dinner."


	3. The Phone Calls Home

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: part three of who knows? Just a little snippet ranging over the years. Enjoy! :)**

The Phone Calls Home

_This has to be every father's worst nightmare,_ Jeff thought as he sat on the hard, orange, uncomfortable hospitable waiting room chair. His wife sat next to him, eyes red and swollen from tears that dripped unchecked down her cheeks.

As an uprising business man, Jeff was used to experiencing several telephone and vid-phone calls a week. But he had never expected to receive a phone call like the one he had been recipient to a few hours ago. He would never forget the way panic rose like bile in his throat, the way an icy hand gripped at his skin, making him cool and clammy as he listened to the message. Even though he had deleted the vid-mail – what was the point of storing a message like that, especially as he would be at the hospital anyway – he could still hear the chilling voice conveying bad news to him.

"_Mr. Tracy? This is Dr. Lees, from Garden City State Hospital. There's been an accident, and we have admitted all your sons as patients. Please get here as soon as possible, or return this call. As all of your sons are under eighteen, it is imperative that I discuss the course of treatment."_

Well, naturally Jeff cancelled all his business meetings and conferences, called his wife and agreed to meet her at the triage desk, and left the office in a frenzied rush for the hospital. Upon their arrival at the desk – funny how they always arrived that their destination at the same time – Jeff demanded to find out any information about his sons.

It went like this.

John was in the driver's seat.

It was Alan's turn for riding shotgun, resulting in Gordon being cooped up in the backseat of John's car.

The drunk driver came speeding over an intersection, running a red light, slamming with vigorous force into the left side of the car. It had taken the better part of two hours to prise Alan, John and Gordon safely from the mangled wreck.

Alan was fine, if not a little worse for wear. Being on the passenger side, plus the airbags, had cushioned and protected him well. All he suffered from were friction burns from where the seatbelt chafed against his skin, bruises from the airbags and shock from the accident itself. Gordon had not faired as well, with metal fused with sinew in his leg, which was incidentally broken, as well as sustaining a bruised kidney and cracked rib.

But it was John who had borne the brunt of the accident. His head had slammed violently into the side pillar of his car after impact, rendering him unconscious. Paramedics hadn't been able to wake him, and the emergency doctors had hinted at internal bleeding, a fractured skull and possible brain damage. Right now, John was in theatre, undergoing an emergency operation to relieve pressure on his brain. His condition was currently critical and unstable.

_Thank God Virgil was at football practice,_ Jeff sighed in relief. Having one son in hospital was bad enough; three was a nightmare coming true, but having all four of his sons that resided at home in hospital would just about finish him.

"We need to tell Scott," Lucy murmured, her voice strong and steady, despite her tears. "And Virgil. They need to know."

"They do know," Jeff replied, hugging his wife just that much closer. "I've already kept them up to date. Virg said that he was on his way, but he has to walk since the car was wrecked. Scott's flying in tomorrow afternoon and staying the weekend."

Jeff felt Lucy nod against his shoulder. "Our boys will be fine."

"They will, Luc. They're Tracys. They won't give up."

Shifting slightly, Jeff pulled out his phone and called the one person he had forgotten to call. Trembling slightly, he waited for the other person to accept his call.

"Mother? It's me, Jeff. Listen, there's been an accident with the boys. John's in a critical condition." Jeff choked back a sob. "Mom, Luc and I, we really need you here."

* * *

_She's the one, _Virgil thought as he flopped down on the bed, pulling against the knot in his tie, after a date. _She's the one. I'm gonna marry her one day._

He had to tell someone about his mind-blowing conclusion. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his BlackCurrant – the successor of the BlackBerry. Who should he call?

Scott? Surely he would understand. Scott was well versed in matters of love. _After all,_ Virgil mused,_ a guy doesn't stay with his girlfriend for five years, let alone in a long distance relationship, without good reason to._ But Scott was away with the Air Force. There would be no guarantees that Scott would get back to him in a timely manner.

Gordon? Absolutely not! Could that boy take anything seriously? Gordon would laugh and joke around, which was not what Virgil needed at this particular point in time.

Alan? Alan would screw up his face, shrug in that typical teenaged way and ask, _how in the sweet name of God does this relate to me?_

John, too, was out of the question, given his philosophy in regards to women.

Realisation sparked, and Virgil slapped himself upside the forehead for not thinking about them sooner. Surely his parents would understand how he was feeling.

Speed dialling the number home, making sure he had selected sound only, Virgil sighed dreamily.

"Hello?" came the drowsy voice on the other end of line.

"Hi Mom."

"Virgil? It's two in the morning. Are you alright?"

"Mom, I've found her. I'm in love. She's the one. I'm gonna marry her. I know I will."

The stony silence wasn't the response he had expected to hear.

"Mom?"

A loud sigh. "Do we at least get to meet her?"

Virgil squirmed on the spot. After one date, it was too soon to take her to meet the parents. Even Scott had waited almost a year before he introduced his significant other to the parents. Although being halfway across the country may have also played a part too.

"Not just yet-" Virgil winced once more at his mother's harrumph – "But you will. Soon. I promise."

"Good boy," Lucy yawned. "Listen, Virg, why don't you call me when you come home after your internship interviews and we'll talk more. Preferably when both of us are more lucid."

"Will do," Virgil smiled. "Call you later. Love you, Mom."

With a feeling of contentment, Virgil placed his BlackCurrant into the charging station, pulled on his pyjamas and flopped back onto the bed before promptly falling asleep.

* * *

Lucy Tracy sat on the sofa, magazine in her lap, with wayward curls tumbling down over her eyes. With a sigh, she shifted, tucking her legs beneath her like butterfly wings, wishing for the thousandth time that she had taken that extra shift at work. She was bored out of her brains.

_It's too quiet in the house_, she thought to herself, absentmindedly flicking the page of the magazine.

Her four eldest sons, Scott, John, Virgil and Gordon had moved out of home a while ago, each intent of carving their own path in the world. Only Alan remained, but that was understandable, considering he was in his last year of high school. Thinking about her sons brought a bittersweet smile to her face. While Lucy was proud of the fact that her boys were strong, independent young men, she wished that they resided closer to her in Garden City. Gordon had been accepted into the World Aquanaut Security Patrol – WASP, for short – and had moved closer to the west coast. Virgil had just graduated from Denver School of Advanced Technology, also known as DSAT, and had accepted an internship in Denver, so he was staying there. John had been stationed near Cape Canaveral as he prepared for his latest mission with NASA. Scott was completing his last year in his seven year stint with the Air Force, so he commuted regularly between his own home and the base he was stationed at in Montana.

With a soft chuckle, she leaned over and grabbed the vid-phone. Thinking of her four eldest sons had jolted her memory, with her remembering the last phone calls she had had with them. Virgil called her and Jeff religiously – at seven in the evening, every Thursday, Denver time. The other three made contact sporadically, at best. The last time Gordon had called was just over three weeks ago, before he was posted to a submarine exercise. John called two weeks ago, bubbling with elation as he announced that he was selected for the latest space mission. Scott had called two months ago, just checking in before he flew off on a tour of duty. Speaking of his tour of duty, Scott had said he was arriving Stateside today.

_Time for a little mother-son bonding time. After all, this is what any mother would do if she hasn't heard from her child in a while._

Speed-dialling her son, Lucy shifted her weight again as the phone rang. She fully expected Scott to answer the vid-call, looking like his usual, if a little bit tired, laid-back, happy-go-lucky self. The reality was the opposite.

Before she had even opened her mouth, Scott cut her off with a terse, "Mom, I don't have time for this. I'll call you back later."

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" she asked, worry clogging her throat.

Watching Scott chew on the bottom of his lip – a nervous habit – increased her worry tenfold.

"It's Jennifer. She's been taken into hospital and I don't know why. I just… I need to get there. Now."

"I understand." Hesitation. "Scott, do you need your father and me up there?"

"Let me find out what's going on first before you come, okay?"

"Alright, Scott. But you call me as soon as you get some news on Jen, even if it means waking us up at midnight. We won't mind; she's like a daughter to us. She has been since you introduced her to us when you were nineteen."

"You know I will. Listen, I've gotta go. Talk to you later."

And with that, the line was disconnected.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily; hours trickled by slowly and there was still no call from Scott. Virgil had called, briefly, before preparing to go out on a date and Jeff had returned home from his business. They had eaten a quick meal, with Alan emerging from the depths of his room briefly to devour the food before heading up again. Now, Jeff and Lucy cuddled together on the sofa, eagerly anticipating the phone ringing.

"Lucy, honey, I don't think Scott will call now," Jeff said, as gently as he could as he stood up and stretched. "It's ten thirty at night where he lives. We'll call Scott and Jen tomorrow, see what's going on then. Now, please, come upstairs and get a good night's sleep."

"You're wrong, Jeff," Lucy insisted, adamantly staying seated on the couch. "Scott promised me he would call as soon as he heard any news. You know a Tracy man always keeps their promises. We raised them that way."

Conceding defeat, Jeff fell silent, which was just as well, as the phone rang.

Lucy raised her eyebrow triumphantly. _See? Told you so._

Jeff rolled his eyes, knowing his wife was fully justified in her actions. Accepting the vid-call, he sat back down next to Lucy.

"Hey Mom, Dad," Scott yawned through the screen, cleverly masking his excitement.

Lucy cut straight to the chase. "What's happening, Scott? Is Jennifer alright? Do you need us there?"

"Jen's fine, Mom. She's fine," he reassured her. "She was discharged, so we came home."

"But why was Jen in there in the first place?" Jeff queried.

"Her blood pressure went low. Like, real low, meaning she collapsed when I wasn't there. Eric – he's our neighbour – found her after she didn't answer the front door."

"But, _why_?" Jeff repeated, stifling a yawn. Yawning, it seemed, was contagious, even through a vid-phone.

Scott blew some air out of the side of his cheek, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Well, in six and a half months, you two are going to be first time grandparents. Jen's pregnant. We're having a baby."


	4. Valentine's Day

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: just a small snippet of Virgil and Scott's Valentine's Day. Meant to have been posted on Valentine's Day, but the internet company disagreed with me by disconnecting our line, so it is a day (or three) late. So, sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy it. **

Valentine's Day

For him, Valentine's Day was a big deal. Everything had to be perfect, right down to the tie he wore for dinner with his girlfriend. Pulling a brush through his chestnut curls, Virgil Tracy glanced at the clock.

_Five minutes behind schedule,_ he frowned. _Not an auspicious sign._

Forcing himself to hurry up, Virgil hopped on one foot as he pulled on his socks. Stuffing his feet into his already tied Wingtips, Virgil performed his four-tap-touch.

_Cell, check._

_Keys, check._

_Wallet, check._

_Ring? _A frenzied moment. _Check._

Swallowing against his dry throat, Virgil convinced himself to man up and pop the question to Maxie. He loved her, and she loved him. They both enjoyed their lifestyle. It stood to reason to ask her to take the plunge into icy-cold waters with him. She was bound to say yes.

_Wasn't she?_

The feelings of self-doubt rolled in, tripling and quadrupling tenfold. Scott hadn't asked his girlfriend of, well, a long time, to marry him, although Virgil knew that Scott would have asked Jennifer ages ago, if it weren't for her parents. It felt a little wrong, to be jumping ahead of his brother in that way. On the other hand, Virgil was sure Scott would be ecstatic for him, and not mind in the slightest.

But still, he didn't think he could handle her rejection to his proposal, especially on Valentine's Day.

Bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, Virgil left his home, feeling like he was walking towards his own execution.

_Time is a funny thing. When you need to slow down, it speeds up,_ Virgil mused in contemplative silence as he drove Maxie to the restaurant. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk, but his throat was like sandpaper and it had rendered him speechless. His nerves – which were normally like steel – were making him far more jumpy than usual too.

They were seated in a cosy, intimate corner towards the back of the restaurant, illuminated in the soft glow of several candle lights. A bottle of wine was ordered and poured into each glass. Virgil took a tentative sip before clearing his throat.

"Maxie?"

"Yes?"

"You know I love you, right?" he began, cringing on the inside. This wasn't the most romantic start to a marriage proposal.

"I love you too, Virgil."

Virgil cleared his throat again, organizing his thoughts before voicing them out aloud, pulling out the ring box and holding it in his hand.

"Maxie, you are honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me. You make me want to be a better person. There are many things in my life I wish I could undo, but meeting you is not one of them. You've been in my life for over a year and I don't think I've ever been happier than I have been when I'm with you. You finish my sentences, you hurt when I'm hurting and I don't think I could survive another day without knowing you were by my side. Not just as my girlfriend, but as my wife. Maxie, I love you so much it hurts, and I'm asking you, albeit badly, if you would do me the greatest honour in marrying me?"

Maxie couldn't suppress the bubble of laughter that escaped her lips. "Yes, Virgil. You know I will."

* * *

Valentine's Day had been horrendous. It officially sucked. As an ex-USAF pilot, who was now a chartered pilot, Scott was well used to being away from home for extended periods of time. But as a father, and a partner, well, that was a different matter.

Especially when his significant other had something important to tell him and his eleven month old daughter was sick with a cold. Scott should have been at his home in Scobey, having a romantic, candlelit dinner with Jennifer, not grounded at the Canadian airport because of an engine failure. The irony of the situation was that he had ferried people over the border so they could celebrate Valentine's Day with their other halves. In doing so, he had sacrificed his own Valentine's Day.

There was just no winning for the tall, dark and handsome pilot.

With a long suffering sigh, he pulled his pilot's cell out of the pocket in his uniform and dialled a number. He went straight to the answering machine, which was not the reply he was expecting to hear.

"Hey, baby, it's me. Just calling to let you know I'm still grounded because of the engine. I may not be back there for a few hours at least. Anyway, Virgil called me a couple of minutes ago. He's getting married in a month and a half. He asked me to be his best man, and I said yes. They're getting married in New York before moving back to Denver, so we get a trip to the Big Apple soon. That's all for now. Give me a call when you get this and give Natalie a Daddy hug from me." Scott paused, listening to the information being announced over the tannoy system. Processing it as irrelevant, Scott went back to his phone call. "Jennifer, I promise we will have a Valentine's Day as soon as I get back. I will see you before the day is out, come hell or high water. Jen, I love you."

Satisfied with what he had said, Scott hung up and paced to the coffee dispenser, ready for another cup of what he – and several other pilots – had christened, diluted crap.

Thankfully, the engine to the light jet plane was fixed swiftly once the problem had been diagnosed, and Scott was up in the air for his last flight of the day. The flight was fast, with tailwinds cutting down on his flight time, and soon he was touching down at the local airport in Scobey. He ran through his post-flight checks quickly, leaving the ground crew instructions to recheck both engines before updating his log-book and clocking off from work. With another long suffering, tired sigh, Scott began the short commute – a ten minute drive – home.

He was later than he had intended to be, with the clock chiming ten as he crossed the threshold, even after factoring in his delay.

"Jen? Baby? I'm home," Scott called out softly, mindful not to wake his sleeping child.

There was no reply. Scouring his house, Scott eventually found Jennifer curled up in their bed, half asleep.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered, placing a soft kiss at her temple. It was enough to wake her up.

"Oh, hey, Scotty," she yawned, rubbing at her eyes as she pushed herself into a sitting position. "You're back earlier than I thought you would be. Your delay sounded bad."

"Tailwinds. They help a lot," Scott explained as he slid onto the bed beside her. "Jen, you said you had something you wanted to tell me? Something important?"

"Yep. Scott, you know how we were talking about trying for another child?"

"Mmm," Scott replied, one stray curl of hair falling over his eyes. He wondered where this was headed.

"Well, we didn't just talk about it."

Realisation dawned on Scott. "No way. Serious? We're…? Really?"

Jennifer nodded, placing his hand over her stomach, where their second child lay, safe and secure. "He or she's in there."

Delighted, Scott gave Jennifer one heart-stopping, head spinning kiss before pulling her gently into his arms. "How far gone are you?"

Snuggling into the warmth of his chest, Jennifer let her hair fall over her eyes. "Seven weeks," she smiled softly, closing her eyes and drifting back off to sleep.

Leaning back against the headboard, Scott contemplated quietly. Maybe this Valentine's Day hadn't been as bad as he had made it out to be originally. This was where he was meant to be, with the love of his life and the mother of his child – wait, children – ensconced within his arms, and a feeling of warm contentment filling his heart.

Actually, this Valentine's Day turned out to be pretty damn good.


End file.
